


Big Yellow Taxi

by katedf



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katedf/pseuds/katedf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a variation on the ending to “A Visit to London,” It overlaps chapter 9 and goes on from there. And, yes, it includes the title vehicle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Don't Know What You've Got Til It's Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Isailaway’s desire for Camille to pick up Richard in a taxi was a challenge I couldn’t leave alone. I was going to write this as another alternate ending, but somehow it got kind of long. All that thinking of taxis reminded me of Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” song and the line about not knowing what you’ve got until it’s gone. And that’s the theme of “A Visit to London.” Richard doesn’t realize what he’s got on Saint Marie until he goes away. (Fortunately, they don't pave over Saint Marie while he's gone!)

“Don’t it always seem to go  
That you don’t know what you’ve got  
Till it’s gone”

_London_

After a week in London and Essex, Richard was getting tired of cold, grey skies, winter-bare trees, and himself. Except for the weekend with his family, he’d been alone most of the time he’d been away from Saint Marie. When had his own company ceased to be enough? He decided to go to his old “local,” the White Hart. There was a new bartender. Richard saw a few familiar faces, nodding acquaintances, really. He had a beer, sitting by himself in the snug. 

He scrolled through the photos Camille had taken with his phone. The colors were so vibrant, they almost hurt his eyes. His house, glaring white in the sun, the multi-colored buildings in Honoré, The sparkling blue of the water in the harbor. He lived in paradise—apart from the heat and the sand—and he hadn’t appreciated it until he was thousands of miles away. 

He looked at more photos. Dwayne, Fidel, and Camille. That ridiculous picture of her grabbing his tie to keep him in the frame. Could two people be any more different? He looked out the window. It was raining. Again. How long since he’d seen the sun? He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. Imagine them, sitting at a table in the afternoon sun. He’d described La Kaz as their “local.” And it was. A local was a place to go with friends, relax, have a drink, hang out. So… by that definition, the White Hart really wasn’t his local. 

Richard finished his beer and returned to his hotel. Alone. As always. He turned on his laptop, even though it was unlikely there’d be any new emails. His team had more to do than think about keeping him company. Still, he could reread the emails Camille had sent over the past week. As he read his own emails, he was amazed at how much he had opened up to her. And she hadn’t made fun of him. Well, she _had_ teased him about the food and the Normans. But when he read the emails, he could hear her voice, and he knew it was meant in a friendly way. And he’d enjoyed it and bantered back. The serious stuff, though—his brother, her problems with the Commissisoner—they had handled with support and kindness. 

He made a cup of tea. It was unusually good for hotel tea. He looked at the packet, and didn’t recognize the name of the company. A website was listed in tiny type. Perhaps that could help him find a place to buy it before he left London. The website listed the many varieties of teas available, as well as coffees and spices. He couldn’t find a list of locations to buy any of it. But then he had an epiphany. 

For a smart man, he could be incredibly stupid. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He could buy the tea online! Shipping to Saint Marie would probably be expensive, but if he could have decent tea, it would be worth it. Okay, if he could buy tea online, he could probably get other things, too. Biscuits! Yes, he could get shortbread and digestives. Ohh, even those lovely oaten biscuits from the Duchy of Cornwall. Frightfully expensive, but as an occasional treat… And marmalade! And, oh my! Real Lea & Perrins! 

Pretty soon, Richard had many windows from online grocers open on his browser. He hadn’t bought anything, but he was excited to discover that he had options. Options that had been there all along, if he hadn’t been so set in his ways. 

He thought back to his time in Croyden. He always bought the same foods in the same supermarket. He never wanted to try anything different. Change was scary. And not just food. He’d been afraid of all the changes in his life when he got to Saint Marie. But different didn’t have to be scary. Sometimes, different could be good.

He went back to his email window and saw that he had a new message. Camille had sent an email with a picture of Harry as an attachment.

> Hi Richard!  
>  Camille has been taking very good care of me. She comes to the house every day and fills my water bowl. Sometimes she brings me mangoes. I don’t always show up to say hello. I’m YOUR lizard, not hers.  
>  So please come home soon. I miss you!  
>  XOXO  
>  Harry  
>  p.s. It’s sunny here!

Richard tapped “reply.” He kept the message short.

> I miss you, too! See you soon,  
>  R  
> 

Richard saved the email addresses of the online grocers, then closed those windows. He was about to shut down when he thought of one more website to check. Luck was on his side. He could get a flight back to Saint Marie tomorrow!

-o-o-o-o-

_Saint Marie, the next day_

Camille was driving Fidel and Dwayne Crazy. She had been grumpy and distracted all morning. She had also been paying a lot of attention to her computer. She got up from her desk and pushed her chair in so hard that it banged against the desk. She got a bottle of water and savagely twisted off the cap.

“I mean, I don’t wish anyone harm,” she began as if she was in the middle of a discussion. “So, okay, no murder. But maybe a little B&E? Would that be too much to ask?”

Fidel and Dwayne exchanged glances. A grumpy Camille was not to be trifled with.

“You know, Camille,” Dwayne decided to be brave. “What it’s slow like this, the Chief gives us time off. If you want to get out of here, go for a walk, spend some time with your mother, it’s cool. We’ll call you if there’s a crime wave.”

As soon as Camille was gone, Fidel asked, “What’s with Camille? I had to ask her three times if the prosecutor was sending someone over for the evidence bags.”

“I don’t know for sure,” Dwayne replied, “But I can see her monitor from here, and she checked her email about a hundred times this morning. She didn’t open any messages, so I don’t think she got a new email today. You know she’s been emailing back and forth with the Chief, right?”

“Yes, she’s told us what he’s been saying about his trip.”

“Right. Well, I’m thinking that they’ve emailed more than she’s told us.” 

“So?” Fidel looked blank.

“What if the emails are, I don’t know, like love letters. You know,” Dwayne made his voice sound like he was cooing, and said, “I miss you soooo much. Ohhhh, I miss you more.”

“You think so?” Fidel sounded skeptical.

“Well, something is going on.”

“She does smile at her phone and her computer some times.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. And think about it, Fidel. He hasn’t been emailing us.”

“No, just the text about the beer.”

“Right. So I’m thinking that she hasn’t had an email from him and she’s going a little bit mental.”

-o-o-o-o-

Camille plopped onto a barstool and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Catherine asked.

“I’m so bored. And I think I’m driving the boys crazy. Dwayne gave me the afternoon off.” She took out her phone, tapped at it, and frowned.

“I’ll fix some lunch for you,” Catherine disappeared into the kitchen while Camille tapped at her phone again, sending the short text _r u ok?_ for the fiftieth time.

Catherine set a plate in front of her daughter and asked, “Bad news?”

“No.”

“No news, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Richard have been in contact a lot while he’s away. Has he stopped emailing?”

“I haven’t heard anything all day. It’s suppertime in the UK, so he’s had a whole day. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

“It’s just one day, ma chère. You don’t think he’s really been caught by one of those brides, do you?”

“Maman! I should never have told you that story!”

“Camille?” Catherine’s eyes widened. “You’re pining for him!”

“No, I’m not. That’s silly.”

“Of course not. Going out to his house _every_ day to give food and water to a lizard that’s a wild creature able to survive on its own?”

“It’s used to being cared for. And I promised Richard I would.”

“Mmm hmm, of course that’s all it is.”

“Maman!”

-o-o-o-o-

With nothing else to do after lunch, Camille decided to go to Richard’s house to check on Harry. At least, that’s what she told herself. She had the emergency key with her. It hadn’t gone back into the jar after the second time she’d used it. She’d even put it on her own key ring. But that was only so she wouldn’t lose it. Or so she told herself.

Camille checked Harry’s water bowl. It was fine, but she went into the house and put fresh water in it anyway. She stood on the veranda and called, but Harry didn’t show up. She checked for messages, but there were none. She walked around inside the house. If it had been anyone else’s house, she might have straightened up a bit, making it nice for his return. But, of course, this was Richard, and the house was neat and clean.

She looked at the bed and wondered what the mattress was like. She poked at it. But you really can’t tell about a mattress unless you sit on it. So she sat on it. Hmm, kind of soft for her taste. But you really can’t tell about a mattress unless you lie down on it. So she lay down. Yes, a bit soft. But there were large pillows, and that was nice. A flash of green startled her. Harry stood on the pillow next to her, giving her a disapproving look.

“What?”

Harry blinked.

“I am not stalking.”

Harry cocked his head.

“I am not! I came here to take care of you, you ungrateful creature!”

Harry just stared.

“Okay, it’s a _little_ stalkerish.” Camille sighed and got up. 

Harry jumped to the bedside table and watched as she smoothed the bed covers and pillows. 

Hands on hips, Camille glared at the lizard. “Better now? At least you can’t tell on me.”

Harry darted out to the veranda, and Camille sighed again. If Richard didn’t email soon, she would go completely out of her mind. And coming out here was probably not good for her sanity. She moved to close the veranda doors, and noticed that the sky had become dark. She heard a rumble of thunder in the distance. 

Camille took out her phone to call the station. First she checked for messages (still none) and checked the weather app (not good). Then she called the station.

-o-o-o-o-

Dwayne picked up the phone, “Honoré Police Station, Officer Meyers.”

_"Dwayne, hi. It looks like it’s going to storm, so I’ll stay where I am until it passes."_

“No problem, Camille. Are you somewhere safe?”

_"Yes, I’m at Richard’s, checking on Harry."_

Seeing Fidel’s curious look, Dwayne rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Okay then. Say hi to Harry for us.”

_"See you later."_

Dwayne hung up the phone and laughed, “She’s checking on the lizard. AGAIN. Now go and tell me she hasn’t got it bad.”

-o-o-o-o-

The thunder got louder and the rain started. Camille had never been in Richard’s house during a rainstorm. The rain was heavy, as it often is in the tropics. She looked at the tree that grew through the house. Water was running down the trunk, but there was no puddle on the floor. Whoever had built the house—and WHY would someone build around a tree???—must have realized that the roof could never be tight around the tree, so they’d made an allowance for rainwater to simply run down into the sand below the house. Ingenious, if a little strange.

Harry was nowhere to be seen, but Camille didn’t worry. Her mother was right. Harry could take care of himself. So she settled into Richard’s favorite chair and picked up the book that was nearby. It was the book about tropical flowers that she’d given him for his birthday. The book fell open to the page about camellias. She grabbed the bookmark before it slid to the floor. He’d used the birthday card as a bookmark. 

Camille opened the card. It opened easily and widely, as if it had been opened many times. And it marked the page about camellias, her namesake flower. Was Richard sentimental? She shook her head and set the book down. If Dwayne could see her, he’d claim she’d gone mental!

-o-o-o-o-

After the storm passed, Camille locked the house and walked back to the station. She loved walking along the sand. And when it was wet like this, it wasn’t scorching to walk on. She sighed when she thought of the way Richard complained about sand. Wasn’t a little sand in the house a fair trade for the bliss of living near the sea?

She got back to town just as Fidel was supervising a car being loaded onto a tow truck.

“What happened?”

“A guy was driving in the rain. Couldn’t see how close he was to the cars parked on the street. Hit one, bounced off, and hit a tree.”

“Ouch. Anyone hurt?”

“Only the car. I’ll do the accident report right away. You know what would be really useful? A tablet we could take to a crime scene. Take pictures, do the paperwork without paper?”

“Very useful. Very not on our budget, unfortunately.”

The afternoon was quiet. Fidel finished the accident report and emailed copies to all involved. Dwayne listened to cricket on the radio. Camille checked for messages that weren’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from "Big Yellow Taxi," written by Joni Mitchell.


	2. And a Big Yellow Taxi Took Away My Old Man

“And a big yellow taxi took away my old man”

 

When the workday was over, Camille knew she had no excuse to go back to Richard’s house. If she went home, she’d just sit tapping at her phone for hours. So she went to La Kaz. She had a drink, and then supper. She chatted with some of the regular customers. And whenever she thought her mother wasn’t looking, she checked for emails and texts.

She was finishing an after-dinner drink when her phone buzzed. She grabbed for it so quickly, she nearly knocked over her drink. The text said _Thanks for the photo. Been out of range today. I’m fine, don’t worry. Home soon. Miss you!_

Camille sighed. He was okay. And he missed her! He’d actually said it. And he said he was coming _home._ Not _back;_ he said _home!_ All the tension was released and she took a big swallow of her drink. From a distance, Catherine watched as her daughter gazed fondly at the phone. Poor Camille. She had it bad. 

Jake Trelaine walked into the bar. Catherine greeted him warmly and got his usual beer. As she did, she wondered why Camille couldn’t find a man like Jake? Good-looking, easy-going, closer to her age, and NOT English and stuffy. Too bad Jake got married last year. Catherine could definitely imagine him as blind-date material.

Just as Catherine set down the beer, Jake’s phone buzzed. 

“Yeah.”

Pause

“Aw, really?”

Pause

“Okay, on my way.” He ended the call and slid the bottle toward Catherine, “Sorry, gotta go.”

“I thought you were done for the day.”

“So did I. But we have an impatient customer waiting for a taxi.” Jake turned to Camille, “What is it with your boss? The dispatcher said a taxi would be there soon. Apparently, five minutes isn’t soon enough for him.”

“My boss? The Commissioner?”

“No, Inspector Poole. He’s at the ferry quay, waiting for a taxi.”

“Are you sure, Jake? He isn’t due home for a couple days.”

“He’s here, and plenty worked up. If I don’t go now, I’ll be in big trouble.”

“I’ll go.” Camille picked up Jake’s keys from the bar.

“What?”

“I’ll pick him up.”

“You can’t drive my taxi.”

“Sure I can. I can drive anything.”

“But you—”

Camille grinned and said, “Police emergency. I’m commandeering your taxi.”

“What emergency?”

“Oh, there will be one if someone doesn’t get to the quay right away.” She grabbed Jake’s ballcap and left La Kaz, laughing and jingling the car keys. Catherine watched Camille go, wondering WHAT had been in that last message.

-o-o-o-o-

Richard looked at the time on his phone. Almost ten minutes! The taxi service had said “soon.” What, exactly, constituted “soon” in the Caribbean? 

Richard had used his waiting time to send Camille a reassuring text. Then he scrolled through the _r u ok?_ texts. He lost count of how many there were. He started to delete some, but the fact that she’d worried about him was touching, and he didn’t want to erase the evidence of it. Should he send another text telling her he was home? No, he didn’t know what to say, and she’d call him or run over there to find out why—at least he hoped she’d want to know why. And what was he going to say? All those hours on the plane and he hadn’t come up with any kind of cover story or game plan. 

Finally, the taxi appeared. The driver didn’t open the door, just popped the trunk for his bags. Richard got in the back and the driver asked “Where to, mon?” in an oddly husky voice. He gave his address and sat back.

Camille glanced in the mirror. Poor Richard, he looked tired and exasperated. He had his eyes closed, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose. Never a good sign. On, God, what had she been thinking? He was gonna kill her for doing this. Whatever _this_ was. In her head, it had sounded cute, her picking him up in the taxi. But now that she had him here, what was she going to do? Just take him home and say “ha, ha”? 

As she pulled up to his house, she still had no plan. Then, as she opened the car door for him, she did the only thing she could think of. As he got out, she started to throw her arms around him for a welcome-home hug. Unfortunately, his police training kicked in and, to her astonishment, in no more than a second he had her kneeling in the sand, hands behind her back.

“I am arresting you—” Richard began, but stopped. These were small wrists. A kid? No, the ballcap had come off, and he realized it was a woman. He must have been really tired, because he could have sworn it was Camille. But what would she be doing driving a taxi? And then he realized something embarrassing.

Camille knelt there, with Richard holding her wrists. She could try to get free and flip him over. But it was hard to get any leverage on the sand. She was impressed at how quickly he’d moved. And he’d started to say the arrest statement, but then he stopped. And he hadn’t—of course not! She started to giggle.

“Forgot your cuffs, didn’t you?” she said softly.

“Camille?”

The stress and boredom of the day finally caught up to Camille, and she couldn’t stop laughing. She managed to get out, “My cuffs are in my back pocket, if you really want to arrest me. Of course, the last time you arrested me, it didn’t turn out so well.”

Richard let go of her wrists. He glanced at her back pockets. Tempting as it was to cuff her, he didn’t think he should try reaching into one of those pockets, especially given how tight her jeans were. He stood up and brushed sand from his trouser legs. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I thought it would be funny,” Camille had begun to control her laughter.

“Attacking me would be funny? And, oh Christ, Camille, you stole a taxi? I don’t think I can keep you out of trouble on this.”

“I didn’t steal it,” oh dear, the giggles were coming back. “I comm—comman—commandeered it. Police emer—gen—cy.”

“What emergency?” Richard glared down at her. Still laughing, Camille scrambled to her feet.

“You!” she said, poking him in the chest. “You were having a tantrum over not getting a taxi quickly. I was there when Jake got the call to pick you up. I took the run for him.”

“And you attacked me because…?”

“I wasn’t ATTACKING you! I was—okay, no restraining me this time, and I’ll show you.”

“What?” Richard looked nervous.

“I mean it, Richard. I’ll be expecting it this time, and if you try anything, you know I’ll have you pinned in the sand.”

By now, Richard was trying to decide if she was insane or drunk or both. Distracted by these thoughts, he didn’t see her come at him again. This first thing he was aware of was her arms around his neck. The second thing he was aware of was her kissing him. 

The third thing he was aware of—several minutes later—was the feel of the outline of handcuffs through cloth. What was his hand doing there? And why were Camille’s hands in an analogous position? Or was it homologous? And why was he thinking about vocabulary at a time like this? 

Feeling Richard go still suddenly, Camille said, “Richard? What is it?”

“I... um…” He looked at her. When had he unbuttoned her shirt? And what had she done with his tie? He glanced over her shoulder and, without thinking, said, “The taxi.”

“You want to do it in the taxi?” She asked. She was still breathing heavily, and for a fleeting moment, Richard thought it was a good idea.

“What? No,” he recovered his senses. “It’s just… the back door is still open. The light will run down the battery.”

“Oh.” Keeping her hands on his shoulders, Camille stretched out her leg and kicked the door shut. Richard put his hand at her waist to steady her. She slid her arms around his neck, nuzzled his ear and whispered, “I forgot to say earlier, welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the line at the beginning of the chapter is from Joni Mitchell's "Big Yellow Taxi."


	3. Paradise

“Dear God,” Richard groaned. “That’s twice tonight you’ve tried to give me heart failure. First you attack me and then…” he gestured between them and then leaned his head back against the pillows.

Camille put her hand on his chest and said, “Your heart is stronger than you give it credit for. And for the record, I did NOT attack you.” She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Richard ran his fingers through her hair.

“You know,” he said, “When that cap fell off, and I saw your hair, I thought I’d—what does Dwayne say? Gone mental. I thought I’d missed you so much I was imagining that my assailant was you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t arrest me.”

“So am I. This bed isn’t the best in the world, but it’s better than the ones in the cells.”

“And better than the taxi,” Camille giggled.

Richard laughed, “Did you REALLY think I wanted to do this in the back seat of a taxi?”

“The taxi is still there. We could—merde! What time is it?”

Richard looked at his watch and groaned, “Oh God, it’s half past two in the morning. No wonder I’m knackered!

“Not London time, Richard! What, it’s four hours? I’d better call Jake. Oh, um, my phone.” She looked around frantically. Clothing seemed to be everywhere, but her purse wasn’t. No, it was still in the taxi. She spied Richard’s shirt, put it on and dashed out of the house. 

Richard lay in bed, watching Camille stand on the veranda to make her call. 

“Camille? Can you move just a bit to the left, please? Ah, perfect.” 

Camille looked at him oddly, but Jake answered the call at that point, so she stood where she was and talked to Jake. When she ended the call, she turned to Richard.

“May I move now?”

“In a minute. I’m enjoying the view. You, standing there in the moonlight, and wearing only my shirt. Absolutely the sexiest thing I have ever seen. This is the best homecoming I could have imagined.” Richard paused and added, “Except for the part where you attacked me.”

“I did NOT attack you! I was trying to welcome you home.”

“Right. By stealing a taxi—”

“I commandeered it! And Jake says it doesn’t have to be back until tomorrow morning, so…”

“Not in the taxi! Think how unhygienic that would be.”

“You’re no fun.”

Richard smirked, “Hmm, you didn’t seem to think that a while ago.”

Camille picked up a pillow and was about to throw it at him, but changed her mind. She sat on the edge of the bed, hugging the pillow, suddenly insecure.

“Richard?”

“Hmm?”

She hoped she knew the answer, but she needed to ask, “Why did you come back early?”

“I missed you. I missed the team, my house, Harry. But mostly I missed you. I’d had my time in England, and now it was time to come home.”

She smiled, “You said _home.”_

“Yeah. I had to go away to realize that this is where I want to be. This is where my life is now. Except for my parents, the people I care most about are all here on Saint Marie. So I came home.”

“To stay?” Camille held her breath as she waited for him to answer.

“To stay,” He nodded. He smiled as he saw her relax. “And will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Stay? With me?”

Camille scrambled across the bed and into his arms. “Of course I’m staying.”

“Good. So, this wasn’t just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, then?” 

“No! But you can’t mean you already want to…”

“I wish, but no, not so soon. And I desperately need sleep. I just want to know that you’ll still be here in the morning.”

“I will, Richard. For as many mornings as you want.”

“Do you remember when I first got here and the Commissioner said ‘Welcome to paradise’?”

“Yes. But you didn’t think it was paradise.”

Richard kissed her and said, “I do now.”


End file.
